at benefits which
mankind would obtain from their severally doing the things which they
knew, and committing the things of which they are ignorant to those who
were better acquainted with them.

Were we not right in making that admission?

I think not.

How very strange, Socrates!

By the dog of Egypt, I said, there I agree with you; and I was thinking
as much just now when I said that strange consequences would follow, and
that I was afraid we were on the wrong track; for however ready we may
be to admit that this is wisdom, I certainly cannot make out what good
this sort of thing does to us.

What do you mean? he said; I wish that you could make me understand what
you mean.

I dare say that what I am saying is nonsense, I replied; and yet if a
man has any feeling of what is due to himself, he cannot let the thought
which comes into his mind pass away unheeded and unexamined.

I like that, he said.

Hear, then, I said, my own dream; whether coming through the horn or the
ivory gate, I cannot tell. The dream is this: Let us suppose that wisdom
is such as we are now defining, and that she has absolute sway over us;
then each action will be done according to the arts or sciences, and
no one professing to be a pilot when he is not, or any physician or
general, or any one else pretending to know matters of which he is
ignorant, will deceive or elude us; our health will be improved; our
safety at sea, and also in battle, will be assured; our coats and shoes,
and all other instruments and implements will be skilfully made, because
the workmen will be good and true. Aye, and if you please, you may
suppose that prophecy, which is the knowledge of the future, will be
under the control of wisdom, and that she will deter deceivers and set
up the true prophets in their place as the revealers of the future. Now
I quite agree that mankind, thus provided, would live and act according
to knowledge, for wisdom would watch and prevent ignorance from
intruding on us. But whether by acting according to knowledge we shall
act well and be happy, my dear Critias,--this is a point which we have
not yet been able to determine.

Yet I think, he replied, that if you discard knowledge, you will hardly
find the crown of happiness in anything else.

But of what is this knowledge? I said. Just answer me that small
question. Do you mean a knowledge of shoemaking?

God forbid.

Or of working in brass?

Certainly not.

Or in wool, or